The Thames Rabbits
by a u r o r a s p a w
Summary: A mysterious sickness is threatening the rabbits of Watership Down, leading Hazel and Bigwig on their most daring adventure yet... to meet the wise rat of London Bridge, and unravel a mystery at the heart of the world - with a little help from an owl and two sister rabbit kits.
1. Chapter 1

***Happy 60th Birthday Dad!***

 _Chapter One_

The late August sun was setting lazily over the River Thames.

Along the river path families strolled at a relaxed pace, their goodnatured chatter mingling with the sound of birdsong and their happy canine companions. Occasionally, the ringing of a bicycle bell or a friendly exclamation of 'coming through' was heard from fast-moving runners and cyclists, out enjoying the good weather on a Sunday evening. None of these travellers paid much heed to the patch of grassland that lay next to the river path, a little ways south-east of Teddington Lock.

Beneath this patch of greenery, where the residents of the neighbouring road enjoyed their annual Bonfire Night celebrations, stretched a vast honeycomb of a warren – consisting of hrair upon hrair of interlinked tunnels, connecting cozy nesting burrows to partially hidden entrances and narrow emergency exits - for use in the worrying event of an Elil invading the safety of the underground tunnels.

The warren had grown haphazardly over the past decade, incorporating tree roots into its architecture. It was common for newborn rabbit kits to become lost in the maze-like tangle of passageways, needing to be gently nudged back by their elders, towards the familiar smells of their mother's burrow.

On this particular evening Carrot and Bramble, two young sister kits, sat in the mouth of a rabbit hole in the shadow of willow tree. They were being very brave, to venture out alone when Lord Frith was still bathing the earth in his golden light, and Elil were making the walls of the warren shake with their noise and activity.

The two kits nibbled the short grass that lay within a paw's reach of the entrance, their ears stretched upwards and their whiskers and noses twitching rapidly - alert to any predators that might cross into the secluded patch of shade where they grazed.

Bramble was the tallest of the two, a full four inches in height when standing up on her hind-paws. She had a russet undertone to her short, sleek, grey fur, and a warm, shy and humble nature. Though watchful and slow to join in with her siblings when playing with an unknown group of kits, she could be playful and relaxed when giggling and nuzzling with her sisters in the safety of their nest.

Carrot was the smaller kit, smaller even than some of their younger siblings, though they were a full month apart in age. Her fluffy, light grey and white fur stuck up in odd directions, giving her the appearance of a round little dandelion clock. She had been named after the flayrah that their mother had once tasted on a daring raid to the garden of a surrounding house with their father. It had been the most delicious thing their mother had ever tasted, and when her tiny daughter had been born - the smallest, but loudest of the litter - she had remembered the wonderful crisp flayrah and the moonlit adventure, and had thought it would be a fine name for the small kit, curiously nuzzling at her siblings and exploring the cozy nest.

Carrot's mother thought that the tiny grey rabbit could be excitable and too talkative by half. She had a tendency to ask questions that had her mother and sisters wrinkling their noses and scratching their ears in puzzlement. It had been Carrot's idea to silflay during the last of that day's light, whilst their warren-mates slept - this was to avoid being pushed around by the older, bigger kits fu inle.

The two sisters knew that it was usually pointless to try speaking to the older rabbits who took the best grazing and chased away younger kits like Bramble and Carrot.

To Carrot's puzzlement, many of these kits often seemed to avoid speaking altogether, only communicating their feelings and intentions with twitches of their nose and movements of their ears and bodies – indeed, Carrot had been cuffed with a paw and even had her fur nipped for persistently trying to talk to kits from other families - and when they did answer her it was in a halting, grudging manner, as if they had almost forgotten lapine, and did not wish to be reminded. Larger kits had even turned their backs on Carrot, grooming their ears as if no one was there - the worst insult a rabbit can bestow.

In short, Carrot's attempts to persuade the older rabbits to let her and her sisters silflay in the thick, tasty grass with them had been quite unsuccessful – and this was why she and Bramble were now taking advantage of the fact that most of the warren were dozing underground, to graze on their own.

As the Lord Frith sank beyond the horizon, and twilight saw a deepening of shadows, the two kits relaxed somewhat, hopping a little ways away from the warren entrance towards the long, delicious, dark green grass. The sounds of Elil were becoming quieter, as the warmth of the day drained away, and the big two-legged Elil retreated back to their square burrows. The chilling cry of the owl had yet to be heard.

Carrot, who had caught the scent of a dandelion leaf on the air, began to make her way toward the inviting smell, whiskers twitching enthusiastically.

From the distance came the excited barking of a dog, causing Bramble to sit up - back straight, and ears pointed sharply upwards, straining to identify the direction the sound was coming from. Though far away, it seemed to be coming closer, and Bramble felt the roots of her fur prickle with a creeping fear. Her heart seemed to be thumping in her chest, as she struggled to keep her voice under control.

'Car?' she whispered, addressing what appeared to be a fluffy round ball of fur. 'Do you hear that? I think it's coming closer.'

The smaller rabbit sat up, raising her ears and sniffing the air impatiently. In between the excited barks could be heard a hoarse, human voice shouting, 'Jasper! Come Jasper!'. For a moment Carrot held herself absolutely still, listening, before relaxing and shaking out her fur. 'It's ages away Bram –' Carrot's voice became muffled as she returned to snuffling around in the grass, searching for the dandelion, 'but if it comes any closer-', Carrot let out a happy squeak as she located the flayrah, 'we can go back'.

Bramble returned to grazing nervously, keeping her ears up, and regularly pausing to skim the horizon. In the distance the human voice seemed even crosser than before – 'Jasper! What's gotten into you!', but the excited barking failed to come closer. At last the sounds of dog and human began to recede into the distance, and Bramble relaxed enough to join her sister in happily nibbling the young dandelion leaves.

The two kits were enjoying the rare treat when a rustling from behind disturbed them. Turning to the scrub grass that separated the river path from their patch of lush green grass, the sisters caught sight of the largest buck rabbit they had ever seen. His fur was brown, flecked with the grey that comes into a buck's fur when he has seen many summers. Around his head was a thick shock of dark brown fur, also starting to grey.

'Frith give me strength,' the buck rabbit exclaimed, shaking pieces of dried scrub grass from coat, 'I'm too old for this nonsense – chased by dogs, scuttling about from here to there with nothing more than the say so of a-'. The buck sat up on his hindpaws, using his right front paw to scratch dust and fragments of dry grass from behind his ear. His eyes scanned the clearing under the willow tree, settling on Carrot and Bramble.

The buck eyed the two kits wearily: with a resigned sigh, he travelled over to them in measured hops, until he sat just three paw's lengths from the sisters. Bramble noted that the big rabbit seemed to keeping his weight off his left front paw – she wondered if he had hurt it.

'Ahem.' The big rabbit cleared his throat. 'I Bigwig', he said, gesturing to himself with his right paw. 'Come.' he pointed to himself again, 'from warren far away' – at this point he gestured vaguely to the south. 'I speak to chief rabbit.' he said emphatically. Glancing from one sister to the other, he sighed, and asked in a strained, tired voice, 'You kits understand me?'

Carrot, her whiskers and nose wiggling with curiosity, spoke without thinking, 'What's a chief rabbit? (the actual word in lapine is 'Rah' – Bigwig had asked for an audience with the 'Rah' of Carrot and Bramble's warren).

Before the big rabbit could answer, Bramble spoke, in such a quiet voice that Bigwig had to stain his ears to hear her. 'Have you hurt your paw Mr Bigwig?'

Carrot was almost bouncing up and down now, excited at the thought that this apparently seasoned traveller must surely know the answers to all, or a least some, of the questions that her mother did not. 'Do you mean a chief rabbit like El-ahrairah in the stories? We don't have anyone like that here... How far away is your warren Mr Bigwig? Do _you_ have a chief rabbit? Are they very wise and cunning? Did you follow the water to get here? How long did it take you? Did you- '

By this point Bramble had ventured a little closer to the large buck rabbit, and was gently inspecting his left paw. As she had suspected the joint looked red and swollen, seemingly sprained in his flight from the dog.

Bigwig pulled away from Bramble, caught off guard. Then he drew himself up, using bluster to disguise his bewilderment. 'You kits understand what I'm saying to you? Your mother taught you the tongue of El-ahrairah?'

Bramble and Carrot exchanged glances. Bramble spoke hesitantly, 'yes, Mr Bigwig, she did. But...' Carrot joined in, her words tumbling out in a rush, 'most of the young rabbits don't like to speak, at least not to us. We're not sure why.'

'Tell me young doe, who's in charge here?' asked Bigwig, sounding tired. Around the three rabbits, twilight was fading into night, and bright stars were becoming visible in the inky sky like tiny pinpricks of silver.

Again, the two sisters exchanged a glance. Bramble cleared her throat and answered nervously, 'mother says there used to be a council, when she was a kit. Some of the elders do try to tell the younger rabbits things, but hardly any one listens to them...'. Bramble blushed, feeling intensely awkward under the scrutiny of the large stranger.

'I should like to speak with these elders,' said Bigwig, rubbing his right front paw across his forehead, 'as soon as possible'.

Soon the two sisters were leading Bigwig down through the maze of passageways, towards the chamber deep below ground where the elders liked to doze. They had been travelling for some time when the older rabbit paused, turning to address the younger rabbits, 'You kits have been very helpful, and I shan't forget it.' he said.

Above their heads, the weather had turned cool, and the first bone-chilling call of the owl rang out across the moonlit grassland.

 ** _*Chapter Two will be published on Sunday October 25th!*_**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

*Buon Compleanno Papà!*

At the end of a twisting maze of tunnels Bigwig, Carrot and Bramble entered a wide, high-ceilinged underground burrow. Tree roots helped give the room its structure, and the soil of the floor was hard and smooth with constant use. Several elderly rabbits were dozing in the warm underground hollow, their snores and snuffles reverberating off the packed earth walls.

'Mrs Buttercup', whispered Bramble respectfully, nudging the slumbering white rabbit with her nose. 'It's a visitor from another warren.' Next to them Carrot was hopping about, her whiskers twitching, as she waited for Dewdrop, and elderly buck rabbit, to rouse himself from sleep. '-from far, far away, and he wants to speak to you!', she finished squeaking enthusiastically. Bigwig, exhausted from fourteen days of travelling, and the recent chase that had left the joint of his left paw sore and swollen, took the opportunity to organise his thoughts - a task made difficult by fatigue and hunger. 'Pull yourself together, buck.' Bigwig chided himself. 'thinking of food, when Hazel Rah is Frith-knows-where, without a friend to watch his back, and when the warren is falling apart back home.'

When at last the senior rabbits had all roused themselves (with much stretching, yawning, and twitching of whiskers), Bigwig cleared his throat to speak. 'My name is Bigwig. I've come from a warren far South of here, called-'. At this point Bigwig was interrupted by an elderly, bushy eye-browed and whiskered buck named Walnut, 'Speak up fellow! You're mumbling!', Walnut shouted, shaking out his fur, before rudely turning to groom his hindquarters.

After a a brief pause, during which Bigwig seemed to be struggling to hold onto his temper, the large rabbit continued, 'called Watership Down. Most of us came from the Sandleford warren and the – Efrafa warren', at the mention of this last dwelling, Bigwig's voice took on a foreboding tone, making Carrot and Bramble wonder if there was a tale there for another moon.

'We're not a large warren,' Bigwig continued, 'but Frith has provided us with plentiful flay and few Elil to trouble us. Indeed, after settling into the warren and making it our home six summers ago, we've had few real troubles to speak of. That was until-' Bigwig broke off, looking around him. Of the dozen or so elders, most were dozing or grooming themselves. Only two of the older rabbits were paying the stranger the courtesy of their full attention: Buttercup, an elderly white doe, and Honey, a tiny, ancient doe with bright, intelligent eyes. From where they sat behind Bigwig, Carrot and Bramble could see his muscles tense in frustration.

Bigwig raised his voice, and began again: '-until we noticed a... change in the young kits. Oh, at first we thought it was nothing more than youthful silliness – refusing to answer in proper sentences, being disrespectful of the Owlsa, that type of thing.' Carrot covered her mouth with her paws on hearing this – the little grey kit was bursting to know what an Owsla was, though she knew that now was not the time to ask.

Bigwig looked around the room at his audience – searching for some sign of interest from the placidly dozing elders. 'Go on, son, we're listening.' said Honey, in her small, rasping voice, nodding encouragingly and fixing her bright gaze on the big rabbit.

'I didn't think much of it at first. Only, one of our bucks, his name is Fiver, he gets these...' Bigwig cleared his throat, seeming to hesitate for a heartbeat, before drawing himself up and continuing in a strong voice: 'The truth of it is that he gets these feelings about things to come, and I've never known him to be wrong.' Bigwig glanced at Buttercup and Honey defiantly, and saw only encouragement in their faces.

'And I'll never forget what Fiver said to me. He said, 'You wait Bigwig, by next summer, or maybe the one after that, these kits will have lost their words – but by then it will be too late.' Bigwig paused to rub the painful joint of his left paw. 'Like I told you, I've never known Fiver to be wrong about these things. Even so, it was such a strange thing to be happening, and there seemed little that Hazel, that's our chief rabbit, and the rest of us could do about it. So the seasons passed, and soon it was summer again, and things kept getting worse. The new kits were barely able to speak a civil word – and what's more, they seemed incapable, or unwilling, to put the good of the warren before their own immediate wishes, or to plan for the future sensibly. I was hoping that I might have retired by now as head of the Owsla – but without new recruits from the yearlings, none of us can even think about retirement.'

Bigwig seemed to have been overtaken by a wave of fatigue, and he sagged slightly, before pulling himself up and continuing: 'Hazel and the rest of us were at our wits end – we knew we had to do something, and quickly, but none of us could agree on where to start. And then-' Bigwig drew in his breath sharply, a dark look crossing his features, 'the owl came.' Behind Bigwig, Bramble let out a small cry of fear, before covering her mouth with her paws. Owls were one of the most feared Elil and the two rabbit kits hoped never to encounter one.

'What's that about a parsnip?' the question came from Walnut, the elderly bushy eye-browed and whiskered buck, who had been alternatively grooming his tail and dozing through Bigwig's speech. 'I could do with a nice parsnip. Does this young buck have any?' (the lapine word for 'owl' and 'parnsip' are actually very similar, and poor Walnut was a little hard of hearing, so this was not so very silly a question).

At this point Honey, the tiny, ancient doe turned around and spoke firmly, but not unkindly, to Walnut: 'there'll be no parsnip this inle, Walnut. Now let's let this young buck finish. He's come a long way, and needs a good night's sleep if I'm not mistaken.'

Behind them, Carrot could hold her curiosity in no longer, and was just about to launch into a stream of questions, when Bigwig began again, 'Our patrols had reported sighting of the owl for several nights. It seemed to be circling the warren. Of course, we thought it was up to no good, and had warned the youngsters not to stray far from the entrances to their burrows. Not that they paid much attention.' Bigwig had also increased the frequency of Owsla patrols, telling them to operate in groups of three in case the owl attacked – which had put even more strain on the already stretched and exhausted Owsla. 'Nightwing – that's what this Elil calls herself, waited until fu inle on the fourth moon to make her move. Holly, one of the bravest and most reliable members of my Owlsa was silflaying before his turn on patrol – and the poor buck almost died of fright when he saw this owl come slinking out of the shadows-', Bigwig gave a brief shiver at the thought of this, 'It turned out that Nightwing wanted to speak to our chief rabbit, though she wouldn't say exactly why. Only that the same thing we had noticed with our kits had been happening with their owlets, and there was no time to waste.'

Behind Bigwig, Carrot and Bramble sat with their ears alert, eagerly waiting for the buck to continue. They had never heard of a rabbit speaking to an Elil. They had not even known it was possible.

Bigwig absent-mindedly groomed the fur behind his right ear, and continued: 'Any other night, I would have made sure that Hazel Rah was accompanied by a full Owsla guard – but on this night, a badger had got into the East side of the warren, and, well, we were already stretched as it was.' The reckless young badger, as unheeding of his elders as the yearling rabbits, had clumsily dug it's way into the newer, shallower burrows on the East of the down. This had sent a host of newborn kits and their mothers scurrying away in fear and confusion. By the time Bigwig and the rest of the Owsla, already exhausted from the increased work caused by Nightwing's appearance, had chased the badger away, they were left with half a dozen displaced litters and their panic-stricken mothers to comfort and re-house.

'So Hazel Rah and his brother, Fiver, decided to meet with Nightwing on their own.' a look of anger crossed Bigwig's face. 'Fiver tells me that he knew they would be safe – and physically, they were. Only that Elil, the owl, somehow convinced Hazel that they needed to leave that night. Oh, she gave some fantastical story about a big place with hrair upon hrair of humans called a 'city' and a big crossing over water–' upon hearing this both Bramble and Carrot's ears pricked up and their heads swivelled to exchange an excited glance. In front of them Bigwig continued, 'she told Hazel that there's a rat in this place who-' Bigwig wrinkled his nose in remembered puzzlement at this next part, 'there's something different about this rat, apparently he's not just a clever fellow, he's...' Bigwig trailed off, unable to communicate something that he had only partially understood when Fiver had told him. 'Anyway, this rat, he sent word out amongst the barn sparrows, on their way back from migration – he asked them to find out if the same thing that's been happening with our kits has been happening with other children of Lord Frith, and to pass word back to him on their return migration. Well, Nightwing, when she and her sisters heard of this, they decided to go looking for this rat in the 'city'. Only when they arrived, none of the local birds would tell them a thing, and her sisters decided it had all been a waste of time – some fancy of the sparrows. But Nightwing wasn't ready to let the thing drop. Even after she and her sisters returned, she kept asking around. And finally she tracked down a group of sparrows and asked why they hadn't been able to turn up any word of this wise rat, when they had asked almost every pigeon they had seen? Well, most of the sparrows had forgotten all about the message-' Bigwig did not need to explain this, as sparrows were notoriously flighty and forgetful, 'but finally Nightwing found one who remembered – and she told Nightwing that the only way to get a message to this clever rat is through the mice and rats that live underneath the city – and of course, any sensible mouse or rat wouldn't stick around to hear what a an owl or a pigeon has to say. Now Nightwing was almost ready to give up, when she remembered a tale she'd heard about our warren.' In spite of himself, a note of pride infused Bigwig's tone, and his chest seemed to swell outwards a little, 'and how we count a black-headed gull amongst our friends. This gave her the idea to return to the city - with one of us an ally.' Bigwig looked concerned as he said this. 'I thought that this was a foolish idea – we need our chief rabbit to stay and keep order - and that if anyone were to travel, it should be as a group – and I was preparing to tell Hazel this, when-' Bigwig now looked both cross and disheartened.'-when mutiny broke out in Watership Down – in the end the two-year old bucks who were causing all of the ruckus left, though not before turning the warren upside down. After the chaos had died down I went to see Hazel – only to be told that he had left with the owl! Apparently, she thought too many rabbits would slow them down.' Bigwig's face took on a brooding expression 'or so she says. Though I've yet to meet an Elil who could be trusted-' The big rabbit looked as if he were about to utter some sharp words, but he held his tongue. Then he let out a breath slowly, and continued his tale. 'I've been following in their paw-steps since. When we started I was accompanied by two of my younger officers – it was all we could spare. Only, well, they decided to go back and it would have been pointless for me to force them to continue. I was able to track Hazel Rah's passage by following the hedgerow gossip, up until the start of the long water. And here's where-' Bigwig looked a little hesitant, but then blustered on, 'some mice told me that Hazel was travelling on the water-' At this point there was a rustle of whiskers, as rabbits who were listening wrinkled their noses in bewilderment. 'it's a trick that my Owlsa use when we need to travel quickly, and there's a stream running in the direction we're travelling – we use a piece of wood, or anything that sits on the water without sinking, and if it will take our weight we use it to... move us along the water.' Some of the older rabbits were wide-awake now, and examining Bigwig in disbelief. A muffled laugh was even heard, but if Bigwig heard it he didn't respond. 'It's how I've travelled the past inle – along the water. Only, I'd made a shallow scrape by the bank and was trying to catch a little sleep whilst Lord Frith was out, when an Elil caught scent of me – luckily he was out with his human, and they called him back – but in the chase I caught my paw in a tree-root and...' Bigwig looked down at the bruised and swollen joint. 'It takes two strong paws to steer on the water. Frith knows I wish it weren't so, but it doesn't look like I'll be up to steering for two days, at least.'

Honey, the tiny, wizened doe spoke in her quiet, rasping voice, 'I am sorry to hear your tale Mr Bigwig. I had hoped that things were better elsewhere.' She paused, looking sad. 'But I see now that I was wrong. You may stay within our warren until you are healed enough to continue your journey. Yet, I must warn you that I cannot guarantee your safety. Many years ago I could have, but as we both know, things have changed a great deal. As in your own warren, there is much discontent among the younger rabbits here. And now, I shall siflay, I think.' the elderly doe began to make her way out of the chamber in slow, shuffling hops.

A look of bewildered anger crossed poor Bigwig's face. In a tense, but respectful voice he addressed the departing Honey, 'Where is your Owsla Captain? Which rabbits are charged with defending the warren?'

Honey only shook her head sadly at this. 'As I told you Mr Bigwig, things have changed a great deal. We have no Owsla.'

Looking exhausted and on the verge of defeat, Bigwig drew himself up one more time, and addressed the group of rabbits clearly and plainly, 'I need a strong buck to come with me, to steer us along the water. Surely there is one buck you can rely for such a task, when so much is at stake?' The big rabbit took in the assembled rabbits with his level gaze.

It was Buttercup who spoke, fixing Bigwig with her rheumy eyes, 'You misunderstand us, I think. We elders avoid the young bucks, for our own safety. They neither respect us nor wish to learn from us. And you would be advised to follow our example, if you wish to avoid a nasty scuffle.' With that, Buttercup began a shuffling hop to join Honey, and the two left the chamber.

The night above was dark, damp and cold, with a constant drizzle. Nevertheless, as Bigwig emerged from a tunnel on the other side of the green he was happy to be in the fresh air. 'Those poor rabbits!' he thought to himself, feeling both glad that things at his own warren had not deteriorated into such a state, and the niggling fear that it was only a matter of time. Unless this wise rat had a plan. Shaking his head, Bigwig reminded himself that it was likely a trick of the owl, who could be up to Frith-knows-what. The big rabbit sighed, wondering if it would be possible to continue alone, despite his sprained joint. He began to silflay as he considered the matter, barely tasting the grass in his mouth.

After a little while, the buck sat up straight and sighed. Every hour that passed took Hazel further from him. Every passing hour was another hour in which his old friend was alone, at the mercy of an owl. 'Looks like I'll have to get back on the water', Bigwig said to himself. Although it would be both dangerous and slow with his sprained joint.

Bigwig immediately busied himself with searching along the river bank for a piece of wood that would hold his weight. As he was a large buck, this was not an easy task, and he had been searching for almost twenty minutes when he heard a small, hesitant cough behind him.

'Mr Bigwig?' the voice was nervous. Turning around, Bigwig saw that it came from Bramble, the young kit from earlier in the day. She was shivering in the rain, and looked very small with her fur matted down from the water. Next to her stood Carrot, an even smaller ball of wet grey fur. 'Mr Bigwig? Are you leaving now? Because we want to come with you.'


End file.
